


and all the things we've never seen or heard

by majesdane



Category: Dollhouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-22
Updated: 2009-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Friends do things together, November tells her with a nod.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and all the things we've never seen or heard

in the end, the experiences we had together, and the memories that then formed, those didn't matter. instead, it was the absence of memory that defined our togetherness.

\-- bernard hitch

 

 

"For fuck's sake," Laura sighs later, when they're back in the hotel room, kicking off her designer heels and flopping down ungracefully onto the bed. "What is this, the fifth job we've had to run for the Rossum Corporation? You think they'd find a better security team so that we don't have to go running around stealing back what's been stolen."

Jenna snorts, changing out of her business suit and into a loose pair of jeans and a tank top. "Don't complain," she says, fetching them both a beer from the mini-fridge in the kitchen and handing one to Laura, who pops the cap off and takes an eager gulp of it. "After all," Jenna says, leaning back against the headboard. "We wouldn't have a job if security at Rossum did theirs."

Laura takes another long swig of her drink, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Too right."

"You were marvelous tonight, though," Jenna tells her, after a bit, when they've both finished their drinks and Laura's got her head in Jenna's lap while they watch the news together. "You had those men eating right out of the palm of your hand. I swear," she shakes her head, twirling a strand of dark hair between her fingers. "They can be so gullible sometimes, can't they?"

"Makes things easier for us," Laura agrees, and sighs when Jenna's fingers brush along the nape of her neck. "We should probably be getting to bed. We have to head back early tomorrow morning and drop the papers off at the designated site."

"Right," Jenna says, untangling herself from Laura and standing up to strip down to just her underclothes. "And then we can get paid."

"The most important part," Laura says, laughing when Jenna turns off the light and slips into bed beside her, cold feet brushing against Laura's bare legs.

 

;;

 

Whiskey passes her in the halls one morning after breakfast.

Oh, hello, November says, when Whiskey looks up and smiles at her. Whiskey's smile is very wide and her teeth very white and November thinks that Whiskey looks friendly too, as well as pretty. November has seen Whiskey around but has never talked to her before; it seems as if Whiskey is always away getting treatments. Sometimes November has seen her during meals or in the shower, but mostly at night, before they go to sleep.

Hello, Whiskey says pleasantly. I think I'm going to go for a swim.

That's nice, November tells her. I like swimming.

Whiskey smiles at her again. Me too. It helps me be my best.

November nods solemnly. Being your best is good.

 

;;

 

Sarah's a loose cannon -- so very, very dangerous, but that's what Zoe likes about her. Usually, anyway.

"You're gonna get us fucking killed," Zoe yelps, when Sarah guns the engine and switches lanes, sliding into a tiny space between two tractor trailers before moving over to the far left lane. "Fucking slow down, Jesus Christ. If you keep driving like this, you're gonna get the cops after us. You want that?"

She glances towards the backseat, where there's a girl lying hog-tied across the seats, duck tape plastered over her mouth, muffling her sobs. Blood's trickled down from a cut on her forehead; it's dried crimson on her face, alongside streaks of mascara. Zoe laughs and Sarah looks up in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

"She's a pretty lil' thing ain't she, Zoey?" Sarah asks, grinning. "Just a kid."

"Not too young for us to play with a bit, though, yeah," Zoe says, reaching forward and stroking her fingers along the girl's cheek; the girl jerks away and Zoe laughs again, settling back down into her seat. "Where're we goin', anyway? I thought we were going to go have some fun."

Sarah glances over, reaches across Zoe for her pack of Newports; one hand on the wheel, she taps out a cigarette for herself, another one for Zoe. Zoe takes them both and lights them, hands Sarah's back to her, sucking in deeply, feeling the smoke burn in her lungs.

"We've got to go see a guy first," Sarah informs her, exhaling a mouthful of smoke. "After that we can have fun."

Zoe grins and kicks up the sound on the radio as Sarah tears down the highway.

 

;;

 

Whiskey sits down next to her at the table while November is eating lunch. November smiles at her across the table, because this is the first time she and Whiskey have eaten lunch together before. She has only seen Whiskey a few times since seeing Whiskey in the hallway; November is glad to be able to talk to her again.

Whiskey says, I saw that you were sitting alone. Friends should eat with friends, I think. It's nice having someone else to talk to.

Yes, November says, taking a bite of her salad. Then, because she's a bit confused, Are we friends?

I think so, Whiskey says thoughtfully, sipping her water. When you like someone and want to spend time with them, that's what a friend is, isn't it? I like you. You're nice to me. And you're pretty, too. I think that we are friends -- aren't we? I would like us to be.

You're very nice, November tells her. I want to be your friend. And you're pretty too, she adds, after a moment, because it's always good to compliment someone in return and Whiskey _is_ rather pretty. She has long dark hair that November thinks would feel very soft between her fingers. Her pale skin reminds November of the stones in the pond near the room where they meditate.

Would you like to go swimming? Whiskey asks her later with a hopeful smile, after they have finished eating.

Friends do things together, November tells her with a nod.

 

;;

 

"Remind me again why I'm taking this Lit course with you," Morgan asks, gathering her books together at the end of class, while Olivia finishes copying the notes from the board.

"Because you need it?" Olivia supplies helpfully, shoving her things into her backpack and slinging it over one shoulder with a sigh. "And because you said that we should take it together. I believe your exact words were, 'And you're an English major, so you can help me out.'"

Morgan rolls her eyes. "You haven't helped much, have you?"

"Well, _maybe_ if you weren't so distracting, we could actually get some work done," Olivia teases, nudging her playfully in the ribs.

 

;;

 

Whiskey makes her happy, November thinks. Whiskey is special.

There is a moment of sudden clarity in the showers one evening, when she's rising the shampoo out of her hair and opens her eyes to find Whiskey stepping out of her towel and under the hot spray of water. She's suddenly acutely aware of the curve of Whiskey's body, the shape of her hips, how impossibly long her legs seem. And then there's --

\-- And then there's nothing; all her thoughts vanish, gone as quickly as they'd come. She finishes washing up, flashing Whiskey a warm smile as she passes her on her way out, wrapping a towel around herself before heading to the small, blue room off to the side to get changed.

 

;;

 

When Anna leans forward with a smirk and brushes their lips together, Taylor pushes her away with a laugh.

 

;;

 

When something bad happens to Alpha, Whiskey goes away.

It makes November very sad. When she asks her Handler when Whiskey's coming back, she gets told that something bad happened to Whiskey as well and that she won't be back for a very long time, if ever. November starts to cry then, because she didn't get to say goodbye, and that's what friends should do before one of them leaves. Her Handler rubs her back consolingly and asks if she'd like a treatment.

November feels better after that.

 

;;

 

She's got terrible jet lag.

No matter how many times she's flown now, back and forth to Los Angeles, she always winds up exhausted. She grumbles as much while getting out of her seat, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair to steady herself. A young looking man with sandy blonde hair inquires as to how her flight went; she admits to sleeping through the whole thing.

"Watch out for her," a tall woman with chestnut colored hair in a white doctor's coat tells another man near the door, dressed in a smart blue suit with a plain dark tie and crisp white shirt who Mellie immediately recognizes as her driver. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Mellie's driver tells the woman, who frowns and glances down at the folder in her hand.

"Not always."

Mellie doesn't notice the scars on the woman's face until she's up closer, passing her on her way out. They're not fresh, but they're still in the early stages of healing, bright pink and angry looking. Mellie wonders if they hurt; she has the strangest desire then to reach out and touch them. The woman catches her staring and looks away quickly, suddenly very interested in what's on the screen of one of the nearby computers.

She changes quickly into a sundress; there's no way she'd be caught walking around LA in her pajamas (which are suitable enough for flying, but make her look homeless in any other sort of scenario). Her driver waits patiently for her outside the door while Mellie babbles on about the latest guy that her mother tried to set her up with.

"Oh, that poor girl," Mellie remarks quietly, when she's in the elevator with her driver. "I wonder what happened to her."


End file.
